


Follow My Lead

by owlmoose



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Flash Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4768469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/pseuds/owlmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair and Anora's first royal dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow My Lead

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Anora/Alistair, slow dancing."

It had seemed inappropriate to hold any sort of wedding festivities on the actual nuptial day of the King and Queen of Ferelden, given that the Blight had ended not even a week before, and so a formal ceremony was called three months later, complete with foreign dignitaries, a feast, and dancing. To Alistair, it still seemed a little soon to throw a lavish party, given how many Fereldans faced the risk of starvation in the areas hit hardest by the darkspawn, but Anora had pointed out the wisdom of it: as a show of strength, and as an opportunity to strengthen ties with their neighbors. “Any supplies we can cajole from Orlais, say, or the Free Marches, will more than make up for whatever food we serve at the banquet." He had seen the logic, and so he agreed, but that didn’t make him any less uncomfortable sitting up on the dais under the eyes of the entire room, listening to his wife make small talk with an ambassador from Starkhaven while a stiff collar scratched at his neck. 

It seemed like hours until the last plates were cleared away –- it probably had been hours, Alistair realized, given the slow pacing between courses –- and Anora wrapped up her conversation, turned to him. “Adjourn them to the ballroom,” she murmured under her breath.

“Oh, hell,” Alistair muttered back. “I’d forgotten about the dancing. Am I expected to take charge of that, too?” He’d given a small speech at the ceremony, and another to open the feasting; he’d written them in advance with the help of Anora and Eamon, practiced them in front of a mirror, and they’d gone–- maybe not _well_ , but well enough. But this…

Anora raised an eyebrow slightly. “Of course,” she said. “Don’t tell me you can’t dance.”

“Not very well,” he admitted. “Dancing lessons were in short supply during Templar training. I can follow a beat, but I don’t know any formal steps.”

A look of annoyance crossed Anora’s face – the same expression she wore whenever she discovered some aspect of Alistair’s upbringing that she found wanting – then vanished. “All right. Well, we’ll make it work.” She motioned him to push his chair back and stand, and he obeyed. The chatter around him died down, and he cleared his throat as Anora stood up next to him.

“Thank you, again, all of you for coming," he said. "Please join us in the ballroom.” He held out his arm to Anora; after a moment’s hesitation, she took it, fitting her hand lightly into the crook of his elbow, and they stepped down off the dais together, leading the small herd of nobles and dignitaries out of the room and down the hall into the cavernous ballroom, where the musicians already played a merry tune.

“Take me to the bandleader,” Anora said, softly, and Alistair complied, steering them across the parquet floor. When they reached the musicians, Anora leaned down and said something to the woman holding a lute, and she nodded. “Now to the middle of the dance floor,” Anora told Alistair, and once again he followed her lead while making it look like his own idea –- a trick at which he was already becoming adept. 

“What did you say?” he asked as they took their place in the dead center of the room, the guests all lining up along the edges.

“I told her to keep the first few songs simple,” Anora replied. “An easy slow waltz to start. Once you’ve warmed up, we’ll go into the more formal dances.”

“All right.” Alistair shifted around to face her, setting one hand on her waist while he took the other, lacing their fingers together. Her hand was small but her grip strong, and he squeezed gently, hoping to draw on her strength and poise.

The music started, and they let the first two measures play, settling into the tempo. “Look at my face, not your feet,” Anora murmured. “Trust me to lead you through.”

“Don’t I always?” he joked, and she responded with a fleeting smile before moving into the dance, one step after the other, his eyes firmly on her forehead and their feet in unison, Anora subtly moving him across the dance floor. As they danced, Alistair relaxed a little – this wasn’t so hard, he thought, just moving in time to a beat, not that different from battle drills in its way.

“I couldn’t do this without you,” he said softly. She glanced up and met his eyes, and he smiled. “And I don’t just mean this dance.”

She acknowledged him with a nod, half a smile. “You’re welcome,” she said. “Hopefully you’ll feel the same way when we start your dancing lessons tomorrow.”

“Your majesty, I look forward to it,” Alistair replied, and to his surprise, he meant it.


End file.
